


Her Worship's Kaf

by organanation



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organanation/pseuds/organanation
Summary: Leia Organa drinks kaf. Two sugars, a splash of cream, in a chipped blue mug. Pairs perfectly with a tall, maddening Corellian,(the kaf-definitely not the princess)





	

“Kaf?”

“Please.” Leia watched as the Captain rifled through a shelf full of mugs in the galley before pulling two out.

“We should be at your base in just a few hours.” He said, handing her a small, chipped blue mug of steaming kaf and keeping a large brown one for himself. She nodded and took a sip. It was evident that life as a vagabond hadn’t cured him of all traces of civilization: it was rich and strong, exactly what she needed after a sleepless night. Leia shivered involuntarily, thinking of the horrors of recent days that had plagued her during the night: truth serum, scan grids, Alderaan—her precious Alderaan—and that raspy grating voice.

As if reading her thoughts, Captain Solo held up a bottle of Corellian whiskey creme. She held out her cup and let him pour her a generous helping.

00

There was kaf offered in just about every public space on the base. The hangar bay, the command center, the mess hall, even in common areas near the barracks and officer’s quarters. It was required for an installation such as theirs that worked around the clock with too few hands. The problem was, as Alliance funds dwindled, so did the supply of kaf grounds, so extra water was added to make the limited supply last. 

Captain Solo’s private supply, however, never got too low, and he never seemed to mind so much when she came by every morning for a cup or two. There was an unspoken pledge that she’d never tell anyone where she got it (which reminded Leia a bit of a spice deal) and he wouldn’t tease her (too much) about her regular visits. 

The blue chipped mug became hers, and she smiled in spite of herself one morning when she came aboard the ship to find it on the counter already full and sweetened to her liking with a note underneath. ‘Rieekan needed someone last minute to go with the kid on a patrol mission. Have a good day your worship.’ Leia took a long draw of the kaf and turned to throw the note into the disposal, but stopped short. She slipped the note into her pocket and went about her day. 

00

If looks could shatter glass, that mug would have been in 10,000 pieces on the durasteel floor. Han had apparently decided that the cracked blue mug was too plain for a princess and had decorated it with a permanent marker sometime yesterday. In large black letters across the outside was written ‘Princess Leia’s Kaf’ and the remainder of the surface was littered with some unidentifiable little doodles. It had no doubt taken him altogether too much time for this to be just a silly little prank.

“What the hells did you do to my mug?!?” She yelled, knowing Han was working in the engineering bay within earshot. She heard him burst out laughing and she stormed over to him, mug in hand.

“I thought you might like it, being that you’re a princess. See? Crowns.” He pointed at all the little shapes drawn on the mug. “It’s fancier now, and nobody will steal it because they know it belongs to you.” He explained, grinning stupidly at her. She looked at him in disbelief.

“You are such an idiot.” He shrugged noncommittally. She moved suddenly and he flinched, waiting for the mug to come flying at him. When he had stood there like a goof for a moment, he cracked an eye open. Leia was standing, hands on hips, a triumphant look on her face. She turned on her heel and went about the exhausting business of being Leia Organa.

00

“What the hells do you think you’re doing up there?” Leia turned sharply at the voice and nearly lost her balance. Seeing Han, she immediately became defiant and combative. 

“Just getting a mug. You insist on putting them on the top shelf, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit vertically challenged.” She threw back. He looked her over from perfectly pinned braids to tiny feet planted firmly on the counter.

“You know, you’re not bad from this angle, either, your worship.” He growled. She couldn’t stop the blush that rose to the surface. “Here, let me help you down from there.” He said, softening and offering her a hand. She passed him the cup and jumped down unaided, regretting it slightly when she landed hard. She would not, however, give him the satisfaction of knowing that.   
She took the cup from him more forcefully than necessary, poured herself a cup, and started for the ramp.

“Where you goin’?” He asked.

“To the high command meeting. Where else?”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for my kaf.” He said with a look of mock indignation.

“What else would I be using you for, Captain?” She shot back, knowing she’d just put herself in dangerous waters.

“My intelligent conversation, perhaps, or my handsome face, just to name a few.” He teased, eyes flashing. “Stress-release.” He whispered scathingly, drawing close and towering over her. She pulled quickly from his grasp and hurried down the ramp. “So long, princess.”

That evening, Luke and a few of the rogues came for Sabaac.

“Hey Han, why’s this kaf mug on the shelf with the whiskey glasses?” Luke asked.

“Chewie got tired of her worship climbin’ on the counter.”

00

Leia checked the cabinet for a third time, even climbing onto the counter to see if it was on the top shelf. No. Damn. It wasn’t in the dish-cleaning unit or the sink, or on the table in the lounge, either. I was sure I left it here yesterday. Where could it be? She sighed and pulled out a different mug before setting off about her day.   
That afternoon, she walked out to the hangar bay, needing to stretch her legs after a morning of meetings and reading briefs. She found Luke’s legs poking out from beneath his X-Wing. 

“Hey, Farmboy.” She said, tapping his leg with her toes gently. He rolled out from underneath, dragging his tool tray along with him. To her surprise, she saw her blue mug with Han’s now-faded black additions sitting on his tool tray. 

“Hey, Leia. I was just looking at the hyperdr-“

“What are you doing with my mug?” She asked, cutting him off.

“Your mug? What, this old thing?” He asked picking up the offending piece of pottery. 

“That old thing happens to be my mug.”

“You hate this mug, Leia. You have ever since Han drew all over it.”

“When did I say that?”

“Right after he did this, multiple times and I am pretty sure in more than one language. I distinctly remember you sitting right there for two hours yelling about Han and that mug and half a dozen other   
things you were pissed off about that day.” Leia thought back. She had been pretty mad.

“Well, fine then. Keep the mug.” She said, turning to the aisle.

“What did you come out here to see me about?”

“I don’t remember.”

Leia was sitting in the mess hall across from Han and Chewie when Luke walked in. He’d just filled up his—her—mug with steaming kaf and set it down to fill his tray. Leia glanced between it and her empty standard-issue mug. Luke sat down and reached for his kaf. Leia glanced smugly at him over her steaming blue mug.

00

“You have to admit, your worship, that was some pretty fancy flying.” Han said, spinning his chair and running a hand through his hair.

“It was…something alright.” She conceded, unclipping her crashwebbing and leaving the cockpit.

“Oh, come on, Leia.” Han said, following her. He ran into her at the door of the galley. “What?” He peered over her shoulder at a pile of broken glasses on the durasteel. She knelt carefully and gingerly touched the pile. “Leia, don’t touch that. Threepio will clean it up.” He pulled her back and went for the droid. 

It wasn’t until Goldenrod had dumped the shards into the disposal that Han noticed a blue chunk of porcelain in her fingers. 

“Is that your mug?”

“Yeah, I guess. It looks like you lost a few of your good Chandrilan whiskey glasses, too.” She said, looking into the cupboard. “This latch is busted.”

“I’m sorry about your mug.”

“It’s fine. It was just a mug.” She said quietly, putting the piece in the disposal with the rest of them. 

“I’ve been meaning to fix that latch for a while.”

“It’s really fine, Han.” She snapped. “It’s just a piece of porcelain.” She added, slightly softer. He nodded and left her be.

Han left on a supply run soon after they returned to the base and Leia was forced to drink weak kaf out of a standard-issue mug for a few days. 

Leia was making the rounds in the hangar bay the morning after he landed. In the galley, she pulled at the cabinet door and was surprised to find that Han had fixed the faulty latch. She was even further surprised to find that there was a lavender mug sitting on the bottom shelf. She picked it up; it fit perfectly in her hands. On the face, in black marker, he’d written ‘Her Worship’s kaf’.

**Author's Note:**

> Please R+R!


End file.
